Korea's marvelous adventures
by cryptic.kaffee
Summary: South Korea has a...little problem. He ventures throughout each member of his family to seek advice and help with groping along the way... Korea x the world


Japan carefully stacked each individual mochi on top of one another, creating a multi-colored pyramid of pale yellows, assorted greens, violets, and deep blues. A Japanese rice rainbow. A single white mochi lay at the very bottom of a twine basket sitting straightly beside Kiku; waiting to be joined with its asymmetrical brethren.

With an expression of utmost concentration, Japan scooped the last rice ball from its package and held it, hovering, barely any more than an inch from the top of the bright structure. For many moments the black-haired nation only kept his stance to pinpoint the exact space where he should make the critical decision of which opening he should choose for the last mochi

Kiku drew in a deep breath, and, tongue between his teeth and hands shaking slightly from the strain, he was just about to drop the dessert food when-

"JAPANNN!"

The pale mochi dropped from Kiku's hands and landed on the hard mat; splattering all over the floor and making a big mess of plain rice. Japan swore under his breath and paid the new interruption no heed, but instead thanked the Lord that the rest of his instructional food pyramid had not been affected in the least. He could always go to the local supermarket and buy himself at least a dozen packs of multi-colored sweets.

The voice came again. This time, its owner did not only just call out to Kiku, but the person themselves collided head first into Japan's back, knocked the wind out of Kiku and scared the holy hell out of him, and caused Japan to fall dangerously close to the recently finished mochi tower.

"Korea!" Kiku snapped at the person who had just head-butted him, and was showing rare aggravation. "Watch were you are going! You almost destroyed the mochi-" Japan was rudely cut off from finishing his sentence as Yong Soo pushed his hand into his older sibling's cheek, and reached toward the food pyramid Japan had been so close to finishing.

"Ooh, Nihon-hyeong," Korea laughed. "What is this thing? Is this all made of rice!? Dude, that's sick!" Yong Soo again guffawed and just before the Asian's fingers could touch the nearest mochi, Kiku felt panic surge through him and he struggled vainly underneath his little brother. Korea may have been younger compared to Japan, but he was also taller and much thicker.

Screamed pleas of "stop" echoed throughout the room, but Yong Soo was either a bit to focused on the task set before him, or he just had an unusually impressive talent for tuning people out. Kiku would have to guess the latter was the more plausible of the two.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion.

The reckless Korean's fist grasped a stray mochi poking out from the center of the pyramid, and he gave the ball of rice a sharp tug. Kiku finally succeeded in shoving Yong off of his chest, but by then it was too late.

One by one, the sweets created a sort of domino effect. The first removed Japanese treat was caught in between Korea's clenched hand (Yong was observing the thing like it was a particularly interesting spectacle at a zoo) and a cascade of colors rained down upon the two males. In fact, Kiku would have found the whole scenario a bit fun if it hadn't been his project that had been destroyed.

Japan threw the numerous pieces of food violently off of him with the fury of ten thousand Russia's put together. Yong was jumping up and down hysterically with his curl flopping in perfect tune with his bounces; a gigantic grin settled on his face.

Korea turned toward his older sibling and seemed to disregard the utter disgust written plainly on Kiku's face. "That was amazing!" he yelled. The noise made Japan's ear drums pop unpleasantly. "We should do it again! That was just so, SO, SO, SO much FUN!" Another out of control laugh.

Tears of amusement ran subtly down Yong's pale face as he looked Kiku over precisely. Japan had an assortment of colors splattered across his chest like somebody had spilt different barrels of paint on him; the same could be said for his arms and legs. Even his face dripped with the liquid gush within a few of the mochis. Yong looked down at himself to check what mess had been made on his robe: For a report; his own clothing was 100 times worse than Nihon's situation.

"Korea, you baka!" Japan yelped. "Look at the mess you have created! How will I possibly clean this up in time?! I needed that pyramid for special purposes!" Yong's attention span for Kiku's first few words was greatly limited, but at the last ring of the sentence, Korea beamed and his dark eyes twinkled mischievously with stars.

The Southern Korean stealthily slinked behind Japan through the shadows once the other country had his face facing down and toward the mess. This would make Kiku feel better. Japan ever denied liking Korea's treatment, but Yong knew that Nihon secretly did. Or so he told himself.

In reality whenever Korea did this it made Japan want to strangle his younger kin and call a Hotmail line.

Yong Soo rested his head on Nihon's shoulder and wrapped his arms with rolled pristine sleeves around Kiku's chest. Korea lightly squeezed the covered are with his long-fingered hands, and claimed to Japan loud and proud that "Japan's breasts belonged to him."

Immediately, Kiku yelped again in surprise at being caught off-guard. His stupor was quickly wearing off, though. Japan pried at Yong's hands and squirmed restlessly away from Korea.

Korea only made a huff of mild indignation under his breath at Kiku's refusal to finally admit that his "breasts" really were his AND that they, in fact, originated in Korea.

"How many times have you been over this now, Im Yong Soo? How many times has it been now!?" Kiku cried. Korea didn't verbally respond. Only shrugged mutely, eyes still fixed on groping Japan. "Not EVERYTHING originated in your country, and I am not even the correct gender for you to "own my "breasts". I am not a woman! I have a chest, not breasts!"

Yong finally released his grip on Kiku after a few more drawn-out moments. Japan stumbled in his hurry to get at a safe distance away from Korea. Or, at least, out of reach of those hands.

"Fine, you're not female, but so what?" Korea asked carelessly. "Your breas-I mean, "chest", still belongs to me." Japan threw his hands up in the air in a queue of exasperation. "How could they possibly belong to you?!" He said indignantly. "Where would you possibly the idea that a Japanese is the property of a Korean?"

Another shrug and evil grin from Yong Soo.

South Korea glanced again toward the fallen pile of colored mochis around the floor. Yong looked up into Kiku's face and they met eye-to-eye. A gleam started in Japan's that easily said "You made the mess, you clean it up."

Without another word, Korea bolted at impossible speeds toward the open door of Japan's home; anything to avoid having to work.

"Hey," Japan called out, also running toward the exits. "Wait just a minute!"

But, alas, it was too late. Korea had left in a glorious flame of a pittance and scavenging. That was an honorable way to go.

Kiku did not attempt to chase Yong any further than his own home. He knew how fast that Asian could run, and he didn't want to waste his energy on a lost cause. Japan sighed, and headed back toward the inside of his home.

He would speak with his younger brother tomorrow. Let procrastination deal with South Korea.


End file.
